CLXVIII
Epilogue: The Romantic Adventures of Tim Drake
Part Two: The S.S. Disaster Sets Sail

I awoke at 5:03 AM the next morning with an anxious gasp.

A gnawing desire to check up on some of my work projects could no longer be denied. If Bruce had used Phil Mendelssohn for any of them, I was going to force him to take a vacation. That man was an incompetent script-jockey who could wreck havoc on your work.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I popped open a WI-Screen and shifted to the edge of my large bed. The eerie glow of the screen hovering in mid-air lit the darkened room. After stretching my arms in an enormous yawn, I quickly logged on, ready to get to work...

…and almost had a heart attack when I suddenly saw a pre-recorded video of Bruce Wayne playing on my screen.

"Hello Tim, I've blocked your access to company servers. You're on vacation. Have fun and concentrate on getting a date. Please don't hack into Wayne Industries servers just to work from home. We've got it under control. And remember, if you need anything, just call me."

I almost did call him. Just to find out why he had sabotaged me like this. Why would you ever force someone to take a vacation? That was just sadistic. I had the awful feeling that my professional life was spinning out of my control.

I grumbled as I stumbled towards the bathroom and found my shower stall - venting beneath its hot water. After drying off, I flopped on my bed for awhile… thinking. Why was Bruce trying to force me out of Wayne Industries? It wasn't right…

The key to getting back to work was fulfilling the terms of Bruce's heavy-handed contract and going on a 'successful date'. I would have to play his little dating game… Fine. you want me to go on a date, I'll go on a damned date.

I recalled that there were agencies where I could buy a date…

"Escorts" I believe they were called.

But would that count as 'successful'? Probably not, but how did you even quantify dating success? I needed to pin Raven down for some specifics, but the 'escort' service seemed the most direct route to securing a date. If it all went well and I could argue some legalities, I could be back at work tomorrow.

A date's a date, right?

Browsing online, I was shocked to learn just how many Escort Agencies there actually were in Gotham. I soon realized that many of these agencies were nothing more than glorified prostitution rings, although there were a few that looked somewhat legitimate. Surely there must be have been men looking for female companionship without the whole sex thing?

I finally found a site where all the ladies had happy smiles and were actually dressed. Using the online booking tool, I arranged a 7:00 PM date with a 24-year-old young lady named Harley who worked for an agency called "Merry Gotham Girls".

I was intrigued. Harley seemed quite attractive, sporting long blonde hair, vivid blue eyes, and a bright smile. She spoke French and English fluently, and even had a degree in psychology. I couldn't imagine why she was working as an escort, but Harley must have had some degree of intelligence to earn a psychology degree.

She had also been fully dressed in her profile picture. That had been the clincher.

On the booking application, bright-and-bubbly Harley seemed a little expensive at $500 per hour (plus expenses and incidentals), but it would be a small price to pay if Bruce would finally get off my back about the whole dating thing. I was now convinced that this contract was some sort of retribution for my all-too-obvious admiration of his young wife.

After I had arranged the evening rendezvous with Harley, it took me awhile to figure out what we should do for our date. I reluctantly booked into that chic restaurant near my condo - the one that I'd swore I'd never go back to. From my previous visit, it had seemed a little too… formal. Apparently, they didn't appreciate a patron having four WI-Screens open and teleconferencing while eating sushi.

I'm sorry… Some of us have to work.

Bu I wasn't working today. Having the time off allowed me to do things I normally had to postpone - like cleaning up the place and making readjustments in my stock portfolio. I was also able to read up on some of the latest technical journals that I had been meaning to get to. Finally, I researched some of the side projects I had on the back burner at Wayne Industries.

So the day hadn't been a total waste.

As evening approached, I found myself getting a little nervous about my 'date'. I had just contracted a strange lady I knew absolutely nothing about… to meet me at my condo. It all seemed a little surreal and completely foreign to anything I would normally do. Desperate 'Tims' called for desperate measures I always said.

But if Harley looked anything like her photo and really did have a psychology degree, it could be fun… I imagined us having an enjoyable, in-depth conversation about the human mind.

I picked out something decent to wear and attempted to tame the black mop that is my hair. By quarter-to-seven, I was looking presentable, dressed in a casual black blazer and white shirt. I decided to go for broke and ditch the tie, opting instead for the red vest. It had been six years since I had gone on a "date" and for some reason, I wanted to make a good impression with Harley.

At precisely 6:57 PM, the front desk rang up and asked me if I was expecting a lady caller by the name of Harley. I informed them that yes, I was - and could they please send her up. Well, this was certainly a good start. If nothing else, my date was prompt.

At $500 per hour, she'd better be.

Making some last-minute adjustments to my hair and jacket, I finally stood in front of my looming front door and waited. Depending on availability, the elevator could take one to three minutes. I wasn't sure I would be able to make it that long. Standing there, I could actually feel my heart thumping away in my chest.

Calm down Tim, this is only dinner with a complete stranger. With blonde hair and big, blue eyes. No big deal…

When my doorbell rang, I almost jumped.

Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and pulled open my front door in slow motion to reveal…

Raven.

The elegant Mrs. Raven Wayne appeared like a vision of continental perfection on the other side of my doorway. She was holding two shopping bags marked 'Twinings' and smiling demurely.

She looked every bit the sophisticated European Aristocratic in her designer outfit... A pale brown coat with a faux fur-lined hood, a white lacy shirt revealed beneath a long cable-knit scarf, black leather gloves, a (painfully-)short black skirt, designer cream-colored tights that were enviously molded against perfect legs, finely capped off by shining black high heels that added three inches to her height.

Her violet eyes shone like magic as she patiently waited for me to say something.

I had to actually pinch myself… just to make sure she was real.

"Raven… I…Wow…"

Unfortunately, this was the best I could do when I attempted to speak. Sentences suddenly just didn't work - not when Raven looked like that!

"Hi Tim… Have I come at a bad time?"

Did Angels ever come at a bad time?

"I… Ahhh… Gosh… No."

It was then that I suddenly realized I was expecting another visitor...

As if on some disastrous cue, sauntering down the hall on red stilettos was a lady that looked like Harley… only cheaper.

In contrast to Raven's refined elegance, this blonde woman looked… crass. Her black one-piece dress struggled to cover her sizable breasts – the pair of them threatening to pop out of the garment's confines with each swaggering step. Her dress was of a cut that if she ever dropped her purse on the street and happened to bend over, she would have been arrested for public indecency. Or if she happened to raise her arms...

Her long, blonde hair was tied into twin ponytails, hanging from either side of her head, which almost made her look like a schoolgirl. Her blue eyes were bright and alive… but also a little wild. And then there was that oblivious smile…

An extreme feeling of dread overwhelmed me… Raven was going to think that I had hired a school-girl prostitute!

And then my $500-an-hour date spoke.

"Say?...Are you'ze Tim Drake?"

Her accent sounded more south Brooklyn than Bordeaux. Or maybe it was just the enormous wad of chewing gum that mangled her speech that way…

"Ahhh… Yes. Harley?"

"Yep… Dat's me! Harleen actually, but you'ze can call me Harl - since we're gonna be such good friendz! Well, well, who is d'is lovlie girl, Timmy?… Lissen sweetie, if ya want somethin' kinky wit' yer girlfren, dat's no problem. But it's gonna cost ya double, OK? Just sayin'."

The cough that welled from deep within my chest contained the last vapors of my pride in its fetid air. Unable to contain it, I hacked up all my dignity in a fit of respiratory distress – a suitable response to the absurdity of the situation I now found myself in.

My boss's beautiful wife stood beside the prostitute I had unwittingly brought to my condo.

"…She isn't my girlfriend."

Harleen looked Raven up and down and gave a slow whistle of appreciation. The two women were almost identical in shape and size, yet at opposite ends of the spectrum.

"Gee, dat's too bad… But if you'ze can afford a classy dame like d'at, you can afford double for me! Now, ya got anything to drink, Timmy? Let's get d'is pardy started!"

As she happily stepped towards my condo, I found myself stepping directly in front of her. As she ran into me, I noticed that she was surprisingly solid.

"Ahhh… Harleen. Look, I think there's been a terrible mistake. I was only looking for a date tonight."

Harleen defiantly crossed her arms while anger suddenly flared in those blue eyes. It was like a switch had been thrown and she became someone else.

"Look buster, I'm not da one who booked two girls tonight. I show's up, I gets paid!"

"Fine… That's no problem. I'll gladly send payment for one full hour."

"Two hours… I tol' ya, it would be double."

"OK, two hours. But please… could you just leave?"

Harley looked at Raven again.

"Ya shore ya don't wanna little two-on-one action, Timmy? Could be fu-uh-hn…"

If I ever allowed my brain to imagine even the remotest possibility of what Harleen had just suggested...

...I understood beyond any possible doubt that my head would simply explode. I would die. Instantly.

"Ahhh… No. No Thanks."

I opened a WI-Screen and deposited one thousand dollars to the Merry Gotham Girls Escort Agency while attempting an apologetic look at Harleen.

"All paid. Sorry to have wasted your time."

Harleen gave another cursory (almost hungry) glance at Raven.

"Too bad. Well, suits yerself."

As Harleen started to skip back down the hallway, she began singing 'Row Row Row Your Boat' like a six-year old, as if nothing had just happened.

Meanwhile, I furiously attempted to think of any possible apology for Raven. And the best I could come up with was…

"Raven… I am soooo sorry."

The lovely Mrs. Wayne just laughed and whispered.

"Not as sorry as you might have been, Tim. She's much more dangerous than she looks."

"Oh God… What was I thinking?!"

"You were thinking that this would be the quickest and easiest way to fulfill your contract with my husband… May I come in?

"Oh… Yes. Again… I am so sorry."

I could never make this up to her. Raven had saved me from certain disaster. To be honest, I'm not sure what I would have done if she hadn't shown up.

"This is a lovely condo you have, Tim. The view of the harbor is quite spectacular."

As we walked around my condo, Mrs. Wayne held up the two Twinings bags she carried and presented them to me as I caught the script on the side of the bag… 'Twinings on the Strand'. I had to admit that I was more of an energy drink guy than tea connoisseur, so I was unfamiliar with Twinings.

"These are for you, Tim."

"Is Twinings a shop around here, Raven? I don't usually drink tea, but thanks."

"Twinings is on The Strand… In London."

"You mean London, England?! I didn't realize you had been out of country."

"Only for a couple of hours of shopping this afternoon. Alfred is always raving about Twinings, so I thought I would visit London and see it for myself. Very lovely and historic tea shop. Tim, would you mind if I brewed some tea? I've been anxious to try it."

"Not at all… but I don't have a kettle."

"I know. That's why I've purchased you this one!"

Raven pulled out a box from one of the bags and sure enough… it was a kettle. At the thought of drinking tea, my stomach audibly rumbled with hunger. And then I remembered…

"I have dinner reservations!"

"Ah, then the tea can wait. Since I chased your date away, would you mind if I joined you, Tim? To be honest, I'm quite famished myself. I suppose it is true what they say about eating for two."

Would I mind?! It would be one of the greatest dinners of my life!

"I don't mind at all… After all, I owe you for saving my life. I'll pay."

"But Tim, did I actually save you from a fate worse than death? It could have been fu-uh-hn."

As Raven winked at me and grinned, my face instantly turned beat red. It was true… I could never live this down. I was sure it had been the first time Raven had been propositioned with a menage-a-trois.

It had been the first time I had ever been propositioned… period.

"Raven… I am so sorry. She looked totally different on the website. Almost respectable."

Raven's mood turned somber for an instant while she glanced over at me.

"Harleen Quinzel was different, Tim… before she fell in love with a monster. Her soul has been lost in the delusions of madness."

"That sounds… tragic. I hope it works out for her somehow."

"There is always hope. Shall we?"

As Raven took my hand in hers - my heart almost burst with joy. Black smoke filled my condo and then, suddenly I was standing in front of the restaurant where I had made my reservations. Hand in hand…

With Raven Wayne.

I had just teleported!

With Raven Wayne!

I could die now and it would be alright. The Universe was bigger than anything I had ever conceived and it was at my fingertips. It was magical again… And I was going to have dinner alone with Raven.

The first day of my vacation would be one for the history books.

Author's Note:

Harleen Quinzel is (of course) the identity of Harlequin, the Joker's corrupted and delusional accomplice. In my story, she's a crazed escort working at Merry Gotham Girls. Any idea who the insane boss of that escort agency might be?...